Tell Me What Love Is
by Hikari no Tenshi2
Summary: A Valentine's Story. Marcus/Neroon slash.


Part of the Valentines 2009 challenge on the Delusions list. I apologize PROFUSELY for certain utterly random references to other fandoms. If you get them, hopefully they are amusing rather than jarring. If you don't catch them, no harm done. :D

DISCLAIMER: Don't own, don't sue, don't ask, don't tell. The songs involved are "Voi Che Sapete" by Mozart, "Shadow-Lover" by Mercedes Lackey and sung by Heather Alexander (yes, you read that right), and "In Your Eyes" by Okazaki Ritsuko from the show Project A-ko. I don't own any of them, either.

**Tell Me What Love Is**

Marcus sat in a corner of Susan's rooms on Babylon 5, picking out a gentle melody on the guitar someone had brought to the gathering. He couldn't quite call it a party; everyone was far too tense for that. But it was a gathering. He hummed along quietly, not really aware of what was going on about him. It had been years since he'd touched a guitar, but some of it appeared to have stayed with him.

"That's beautiful," Susan commented, sinking down to sit beside him. The party appeared to have moved away from them for the time being. "What is it?"

"Old folk song," Marcus answered. "It seemed appropriate."

Susan listened for a moment as he sang the next verse quietly, almost under his breath. "It's not a love song, is it?" she asked.

Marcus chuckled softly. "Depends on how you mean love song. The original meaning?" he shook his head. "The lover in the song is death."

"And you intend to go courting death, do you?" She snorted. "Take my word for it, Marcus… if death wants you, it'll court you, and you'll have no choice in the matter."

"Perhaps," Marcus agreed. "But perhaps I'm not singing about death, either. I only said that was the original meaning." He continued playing, trailing off the end of the song, a dream from several nights before of stern dark eyes watching him down the length of a denn'bok haunting him. He wished he knew who the strange Minbari that had invaded his dreams lately was.

"Who are you singing about, then?" Susan asked, snagging a couple of drinks from someone passing their corner with a tray. The room should have felt crowded, with all of the usual suspects who could claim anything to do with the running of the station crammed into it, but somehow they all managed to fit without bumping into each other.

"Dreams," Marcus responded. Susan looked puzzled, and Marcus tried to find the words to explain further, reminding him that these people didn't know him well enough yet to be used to the odd way his mind worked.

"What kind of dreams?" Susan asked with a smirk before he could formulate his explanation.

"Not that kind," Marcus snickered back. "Have you ever dreamed about someone, and known they were out there somewhere, you just hadn't met them yet?" he asked.

Susan shrugged, suddenly appearing uncomfortable. "I have enough trouble with the past and present; I try not to know too much about the future," she joked.

Marcus chuckled. "And that is why you are saner than I am, Commander. But then, most people are. Here, do you know the one about the Shepherd?" he changed the tune he was playing, belting out one of the bawdiest songs he knew. To his astonishment, while the rest of the room looked at him as though he were insane, G'Kar evidently knew not only the words but the harmonies as well.

***

Had Marcus known he was about to meet his dream companion he might have dressed for the occasion, he reflected a few weeks later. Oh well; Ranger uniform would have to do. He opened his pike with barely a thought.

"The only way you will get to Delenn is through me," he declared, feeling like the entire universe had gathered around this one moment in the dark of Babylon 5's lower levels. "I invoke Denn'shah."

"To the death," his opponent murmured snidely. "In the war I killed thirty thousand of you. What's one more?"

Marcus barely heard the rest of the challenge. He remembered afterwards that he'd refused to stand down; did the Minbari think he had no honour? As if one had to have spikes coming out of one's head to be worth anything! Marcus had thrown himself into the battle, but he'd known it was a futile effort. He was good, well-trained, limber, and experienced. But this was a Minbari challenge for a Minbari ceremony, and even if he hadn't been distracted by flashes of his dreams he would have thrown the fight. Things would be hard enough for Delenn without an Alyt of the Warrior Caste dying at the hands of a human at the very moment she became Anla'Shok Na.

As he lay on the floor, feeling every breath he took as a stab of agony from broken ribs, he stared up the length of a denn'bok into fathomless dark eyes and almost laughed. So the lover he'd thought he dreamed of had been death after all.

"For her," he proclaimed instead. "We live for the One, we die for the One. Isil'zha veni. In Valen's name," he gasped the last, and saw the Minbari's eyes widen before he withdrew his pike and stormed from the room.

Marcus smiled slightly as he leaned back, more than a little delirious with pain. "In Valen's name," he whispered again. "Neroon…" he fell into darkness.

***

God was having far too much fun at his expense, Marcus decided as he swam slowly back to consciousness to the sound of the Warrior's slow voice. It sounded like what he imagined a deep, slow river back on earth would sound like, meandering through an ancient forest somewhere far away from people. Calm and meditative, with hidden depths few could guess at.

The rest of his surroundings registered slowly. MedLab. Ah. So Neroon hadn't come to finish him off after all. He focused more closely on the Alyt's words, catching the end of his confession. Marcus wished he had the muscle control to smile; that admission deserved some kind of response.

"The next time," he rasped out, then had to pause to wet a throat that was beyond dry; he must've been on a ventilator at some point, because nothing else left that kind of aftertaste. "The next time… you want a revelation… could you possibly find a way that isn't quite so… uncomfortable?"

Neroon threw his head back and laughed, and as the delighted dark eyes met his own, Marcus' brain derailed all over again for an entirely different reason. For some reason, those eyes made him believe in a future he'd never thought he would have. A future by the side of this Warrior. He shook his head. That HAD to be the drugs talking…

***

The next time he woke up Susan was by his bedside, looking impatient and pissed off by turns.

"I thought you weren't courting death?" she snapped, when she saw he was awake. "What the hell was that, Marcus?"

"A dance with the devil," Marcus chuckled, then winced. Bad idea. "Did I worry you?"

Susan smacked him with a pillow. "Do you realize the diplomatic incident you almost created? Were you trying to restart the war, or were you just not thinking?"

Marcus shook his head. "Neither. I did what I had to."

"Well, I hope you got something more out of it than bruises and broken bones," Susan growled. "Alyt Neroon has decided to stay around for a while to learn, or so he claims, but I don't trust him. He's been hovering around waiting for you to wake up. I think he wants a rematch."

Marcus smiled at that. "He's welcome to it, but he'll have to wait a few weeks."

"You DO have a death wish!" Susan threw up her hands.

"I don't, Susan," Marcus denied, feeling the good drugs start to pull him under again. "He's the man from my dreams."

Susan snorted. "This has just gotten too star-crossed even for me, and I'm Russian," she grumbled, showing herself out as Marcus dropped off into sleep again. "Man of your dreams indeed! He just tried to kill you! Although… maybe this'll keep you from giving me ridiculous flowers anymore…" she walked off muttering to herself, grin growing steadily more evil as she plotted ways to get the Ranger off her back once and for all.

Beings of a hundred races fled from that smile.

***

A few weeks later, his ribs once again in fighting trim and stray thoughts no longer being magnified by the good drugs, Marcus was far less amused by Neroon's continuing presence. The Minbari had spent the intervening time hovering on the edge of Marcus' life, studying him like a laboratory specimen. He'd asked intelligent questions and generally made himself useful, but Marcus couldn't shake the feeling that he suddenly lived in a fishbowl. It was uncomfortable, the more so because he couldn't articulate WHY precisely Neroon's presence bothered him. The rest of the staff had taken to sharing amused looks when they thought he wasn't watching.

Marcus was about two steps away from suspecting a conspiracy; it wasn't paranoia if they were really out to get you, after all. He'd even begun spending far more time than usual – and probably more than was wise – in the gym, taking his frustrations out on the punching bag. He tried to pretend it was Neroon, but he didn't really want to hit the Minbari. Well, all right, he DID want to hit him, but not really. But the Alyt was always THERE, being so nice and reasonable and intelligent and honourable and… It was enough to drive a perfectly innocent Ranger mad!

Further, he could swear Susan was laughing at him. Marcus glared at the punching bag he was currently engaged in a battle to the death with as it came around for another go. He took somewhat exaggerated pleasure in smacking it back as hard as he could, the chains holding it up rattling as it swung wildly. He would conquer this. He had to; it was starting to distract him from his work. He'd be going along just fine and then an image of Neroon, stern, commanding, and entirely too smug and attractive in his full uniform would wander through his brain uninvited and taunt him. And the images were getting more suggestive all the time.

"That's one punching bag that will never bother us again," Susan observed, wandering into the gym just as Marcus' next swing brought the entire bag crashing to the floor.

Marcus turned to her, breathing hard and nowhere near through working out his irritation. "Fine, then YOU tell me what to do with these bloody… feelings!" he shouted, unaware that he was offering a fine spectacle to everyone else in the gym. Including a Warrior Caste Alyt who had just happened to need a place to work off some excess energy of his own.

"What feelings?" Susan asked, unsuccessfully attempting to hide a smirk.

"You bloody well know," Marcus griped.

"No, I really don't," Susan lied.

"You're a terrible liar, you know," Marcus told her.

"Come on," Susan changed the subject, grinning openly at him. "You need a drink."

"A stiff one," Marcus agreed with a sigh, then glared at a couple of nearby humans who were giggling incoherently. "You're all perverts, you realize?" he growled as Susan dragged him out of the gym.

"Now, tell me what the problem is," Susan continued their conversation once she'd hauled him into her favourite bar and shoved him onto a stool. The bartender either read her expression or had been warned ahead of time; he simply left the bottle.

"I don't have a problem," Marcus growled. "Everyone else seems to."

Susan snickered, pouring them both large servings of something that smelled like it could strip varnish. "Marcus, it's generally accepted as fact that if you're the only one reacting to something, you're the one with the problem."

"That's just because he's brainwashed all of you," Marcus grumbled. "It's some… Minbari mind trick." He waved his hand vaguely, and slammed back his drink. His eyes watered. "Good GOD, what is that?"

"The bartender calls it a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster. He had a very odd expression on his face when he said it; I thought it best not to ask."

Marcus, who had actually read several antique classics of the science fiction genre and thus got the joke, snorted but made no attempt to explain. He simply poured himself another.

"Come on, Marcus. You're going to land back in MedLab at this rate. We're worried about you."

"I don't understand any more than you do," Marcus defended himself. "I can't explain it. All I know is, every time he's anywhere near me, I get twitchy and I can't calm down and… I don't know how to explain it, Susan."

Susan eyeballed him carefully, then moved the bottle aside when he filled his glass a third time. Hers was still untouched. "You really don't know what's going on here, do you?" she asked sympathetically.

"No," Marcus snorted again. "You think I'd make such a spectacle of myself if I did?"

"Marcus, have you ever been in love?" Susan asked. "Or even a crush, as a teenager?"

"Do you have any idea what mining planets are like?" Marcus returned. "Hostile environment, barely breathable, no free time, backbreaking labour… there weren't any children on Arisia but me and Will. Not more than one or two married couples apart from our parents, either. Not a good life for it. By the time I got into EarthForce in my twenties, during the war, I'd long passed the age where you're supposed to have your first relationship. Everyone just assumed I had, and I didn't know anything, and after a certain point it was easier to shut up and let them assume than ask someone to explain everything. So no, Susan, I haven't."

Susan blinked. Somehow, she'd never actually thought about the childhoods of many of her friends. Given how much her own had impacted later events, was it so surprising other people had similar issues? But that wasn't helping Marcus.

"Why do you ask?" the Ranger finally wondered, eyes beginning to glaze over slightly. Susan figured she'd get maybe five more minutes of semi-coherency out of him before the alcohol really hit his system and she had to haul him back to his quarters.

"Because you've been acting like a kid with his first crush when you're near Neroon. That's why the staff is laughing at you. We think it's cute," she admitted.

Marcus' jaw dropped, and then Marcus himself dropped, sliding out of his chair to land in a heap on the floor. Susan sighed and paid for their drink, sharing a knowing look with her favourite bartender before hefting Marcus up and helping him stumble to his quarters.

She met Neroon in the hallway just three junctions down from her destination. The Minbari's eyes widened when he saw her burden.

"Is he injured?" Neroon asked, concern poorly concealed.

"No," Susan gasped. Bloody Ranger was heavier than he looked. "Just drunk. We had a chat."

Neroon blinked, shrugged, and took some of his weight from her. "Is drinking during conversation traditional for humans?" he asked.

Susan chuckled. "Sometimes," she said, overriding Marcus' door with her security codes. Between the two of them they got the insensate Ranger through the door and flopped him onto his bed. Susan was all for leaving him that way, but Neroon took the time to straighten his limbs out and find him a pillow.

"On what occasions?" Neroon wondered.

Susan shrugged. "Discussions of relationships seem to require it. The human heart is a difficult thing to sort out, and most people find it difficult to talk about. Alcohol lowers inhibitions in humans. I think I should've picked something a little less strong, though… I seem to have lowered more than his inhibitions."

"Will he suffer for this when he wakes up?"

Susan shrugged again. "Don't know. Probably not; I've seen him drink most of us under the table. At worst he'll be disoriented and suffering from a headache. I have to return to duty." She gestured at the door, clearly indicating him to precede her.

"If you don't mind, I would like to stay until he wakes up. I have something to discuss with Anla'Shok Cole, and perhaps it will go easier with… lowered inhibitions, as you say." Neroon planted himself, clearly having no intention of moving.

Susan snorted. "Just don't try to kill each other again. I do not have the time to clean up the political mess that would cause. If you'll excuse me," she bowed slightly and took herself out, smirking once the door was shut. Something to discuss indeed. She'd have to see what kind of odds Garibaldi was laying on their favourite pain in the ass… laying, so to speak. She changed her course to run by the security office.

Back in Marcus' rooms, Neroon took the single uncomfortable chair and set about waiting for the Ranger to wake up. He had intended to corner Marcus after his outburst in the gym to see if the human's words indicated desires running parallel to his own, but Commander Ivanova had been too quick for him. No matter.

It was no more than half an hour later when Marcus groaned and stirred. Neroon stood to assist him into a sitting position, ordering the lights down slightly when the human squinted.

"Lord, did you catch the number of that lorry?" Marcus winced, rubbing his head. His accent had thickened considerably; fortunately it was still similar enough to the accent of the Warrior Caste when speaking Standard that Neroon had little trouble.

"Lorry?" the Alyt inquired. "I do not know anything about a lorry. Commander Ivanova appears to have given you a great quantity of alcohol. Is there anything I can get you?"

"Water," Marcus waved vaguely at the tiny excuse for a kitchen in one corner. "Small quantity, large punch. Ow. Never trust a bartender who's read Douglas Adams. Where's my towel?"

"I believe there is a towel hanging on the wall there," Neroon gestured, bringing over a glass of water.

"Never mind," Marcus shook his head. "Wait, Neroon? What are you doing here?" he blinked in confusion. "What am I doing here, for that matter?"

"Commander Ivanova brought you here. I encountered her on the way, and offered to stay until you woke. I have something of importance I wish to discuss with you."

"Oh God, it's a conspiracy," Marcus groaned. "I knew it." He gulped the water slowly. "What did you wish to discuss?" he wondered, looking a little more like himself.

"Your outburst in the gym made me think that you might share certain recent… feelings. Feelings that I have only become aware of in the past few days, but which have probably been driving my actions since our Denn'shah."

"What feelings?" Marcus wondered, eyes wide and a little startled.

"Marcus Cole, I find myself attracted to you," Neroon admitted calmly. "Possibly even in love. If these sentiments are unwelcome I will of course leave, and we will never speak of them again."

Marcus sat stunned for a long moment, staring at Neroon with wide eyes. The Alyt sighed. It really had been too much to hope for, he supposed. He began to depart, gathering his dignity around him like a shield.

"Wait!" Marcus called, just before he reached the door.

"Yes?" Neroon wondered, not turning.

"I… I have no experience with love. Not the romantic kind. I feel… something for you, something that I do not understand. Will you… will you tell me what love is, Neroon? Help me to understand, so I can answer you honestly?"

Neroon turned at that. Marcus' eyes were still wide, but now he could read warmth, compassion, and determination on top of the trepidation he'd seen there only a moment ago.

"I will do better than that," Neroon told him. "I will show you. Look into my eyes, Marcus, and see what I feel for you."

Their gazes held for a long moment, before Marcus' eyes fluttered shut and he leaned up into Neroon's first kiss.

THE END


End file.
